
The Lost Hotels of Paris
(excerpt) by Jack Gilbert
Ginsberg came to my house one afternoon
and said he was giving up poetry
because it told lies, that language distorts.
I agreed, but asked what we have
that gets it right even that much.
We look up at the stars and they are
not there. We see the memory
of when they were, once upon a time.
And that too is more than enough.

Nice pictures to reflect upon.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you David.
LikeLiked by 1 person
SPLENDIDA SERA 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Splendida serata qualsiasi momento Simona è qui. 🙂
LikeLike
You always have wonderful photos to fit the poem and this one is no exception. I really love it! ❤ Well done my dear friend! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you dear Khloe. 🙂
LikeLike